


An Emotional Tale

by RedRoseArrow



Category: Ranger's Apprentice
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-15
Updated: 2017-12-15
Packaged: 2019-02-15 06:21:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 13,481
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13025094
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedRoseArrow/pseuds/RedRoseArrow
Summary: Basically a Ranger's Apprentice short story featuring some of our favourite characters and a lot of emotions.Set after 'And About Time Too' in the eleventh book The Lost Stories





	1. Snow

I: Snow

He could feel himself coming out of a deep sleep, one that was rare in his busy life as a Ranger. His eyelids seemed to be in slow motion as they opened and his vision was a bit blurry as he waited for his eyes to focus and his mind to function. Small parts of his dream flew through his head, but they disappeared as he tried to remember them.  
Will threw back the covers and slid to the side of the bed, where he sat up to gain alertness before he stood up and stretched his stiff muscles. It was only then that he realized the cold and he turned around to smooth down the covers, so less of Alyss' body heat would escape. Still on bare feet and with only thin trousers and loose shirt he wore during night, Will silently padded over their bedroom threshold into the main room.  
It was early in the morning, with the chill of the night still hanging in the air. The room was dark, as the shutters were closed and the wood in the fireplace had been done burning a few hours ago.   
Will yawned and walked towards one of the windows to open its shutters and was almost blinded when he did so. The small clearing which was surrounded by trees in front of the cabin had been turned into a beautiful winter show.   
The branches of the trees bowed with the heavy load they were carrying, bending towards the ground. Everything was glistening, as if a fairy had sprinkled her dust over the entire world during the night. Colours were brighter against the pure white blanket, and the air smelled pure and fresh. Everything seemed to be quieter, almost muffled. The sound of chirping birds was barely hearable, and there were no other sounds that submerged from the forest.  
Will now opened the other shutters as well, and let the fresh air fill the cabin. Wanting to go outside, to Tug's stable, he decided to put on something warmer, before he would wend himself into the white coldness called snow.   
After having checked on Alyss - his wife was still asleep, not being affected by the coldness that ran through the rest of the cabin - he slid his feet in his boots, put on his jacket and hung his cloak over his shoulders. He also hung his double knife scabbard around his waist, a sharp, shining knife in each sheath.  
The door creaked when he opened it, and he carefully stepped onto the porch so as not to slip and fall. Will now had a full view of the clearing and the beginning of the forest; a wintry paradise covered in snow.  
With every step Will took, he left a fresh, crisp footprint in the blanket, as if he was the first person who had ever been there. It had begun to snow again, and tiny ice crystals drifted peacefully down from the sky. The white, cottony powder continued to cover the branches of the trees as Will walked towards the stable. Although the soft wind was brisk and chilly, the early morning sun was bright and warm.  
When he entered the stable he was greeted by both whinnying and barking at the same time.   
"Morning, Tug; morning, Ebony," Will greeted. Ebony wagged her tail at him, and Will went through his knees to stroke over her black-and-white head. She looked at him in delight, one blue and one brown eye staring lazily at him.   
Are you going to stroke me too? Tug sounded slightly... jealous, Will noticed amused, and he looked up and grinned.   
"If you want me to," he answered. He stood up and searched something in the pockets in his jacket. "Though I had planned to give you this."  
He got out a big, shiny apple and fed it to his horse. As Tug ate the apple satisfied, Will patted his loyal horse a few times on the neck.   
"Let's hope there will no problems these days," he said. "It has snowed, and we would be damned if we had to be out for too long."  
Afraid for the cold, are we?  
“Ha, you think! I’ve borne a winter in Skandia, it can hardly get any worse here.”  
Will's reasoning was more than logical. Araluen was the kind of country where it was cold in the winters, yet not cold enough to have snow and ice every winter. Except for the northern fiefs, of course. Norgate would be dissolved in snow every year again, yet Redmont barely knew very hard winters.   
And the winters in Skandia were more than hard. Snowstorms raged over the country every few days, and the temperature would lower until unbearable. Will had been a slave when one of Skandia's hardest winters ever had hit the country, and if it wasn't for warmweed he would have been frozen to death. He might not be so proud on the fact that he had been a drug addict for a few months, he could say proudly that after he had lost that addiction, he had gotten through the winter himself. With Evanlyn, of course. He probably wouldn't have come through the winter half as well without her.  
"Will?" Alyss voice raped him from his thoughts, and he looked up.  
"I got to go," he told Tug.  
Can I have another apple first?  
Will grinned. "You probably can," he answered. If a horse had could do so, Tug would have rolled his eyes at him.  
Very funny.  
"But you may not," Will went on, determined on finishing his joke first.  
You know, you aren't as funny as you think you are, Tug told him.  
Will shrugged. "Or you simply don't get the jokes," he replied. "You never got the long face joke as well."  
I did, I do, and I will. You just don't get the twist I make on it.  
Will sighed in desperation, then turned around to walk outside. And sucked in his breath surprised when a ball of white, wet, cold snow instantaneously hit him in the face.  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's quite a boring chapter, I know, but the promised emotions are on their way.  I do hope you enjoyed this chapter nonetheless; feedback is always appreciated :)  
> ~Rose


	2. More Snow

II: More Snow

As soon as he had rubbed most snow out of his eyes, Will opened them, looking for the person who had thrown that snowball into his face.   
"Alyss!" He called out to the person on the veranda, "What was that for?! I didn't do any-" He didn't even get a chance to finish his sentence, because he had just been hit by another snowball again.  
"I don't know!" Alyss laughed at him, "You just deserved it!" Before Will could react, Alyss had bended down, scurried around to gather snow, and had compacted the white snow into a small ball. A second later, a third ball hit Will in the chest.  
The silence that followed was almost stifling, until Will snorted and bursted out laughing.  
"I'll be getting you for those three!" he yelled at his wife and he bended down to gather snow. When he looked up, a perfect snowball in his hands, Alyss was no longer standing on the veranda. He turned around to see where she was hiding, and when he was turned towards the road another snowball hit his back. He turned around to see Alyss, in front of the trees.  
"You should've seen yourself! Priceless!!" she said through fits of laughter. Will smiled coldly.  
"Oh, really. Well why don't we see how you'd look like," he replied and he moved his arm back and forth, launching the snowball into the air. It barely missed Alyss, who'd jumped left to avoid the cold ball. She laughed at him, ready to make a comment about his throwing skills, when a new clump of snow hit her.   
Years of training were now in favor. Years of shooting arrows and throwing knives proved their use in the ice-cold white battlefield, as Will continued to grab snow and throw it in Alyss' direction, almost without thinking. She shrieked at the cold substance but swore revenge.  
In seconds the air was thick with snowballs so compacted that some of them felt solid and icy. The ones made of the freshest fallen flakes burst open on impact, showering the hit with crystalline fragments that glinted in the wintry morning light.   
Balls of white snow were being thrown back and forth, and both Ranger and Courier were hit multiple times. They shrieked and laughed, ducked and launched, secluded from the rest of the world.  
For a moment, there was nothing else on the world that mattered. There was nothing that needed their attention, no one who wanted to see them. All that mattered was them and the snow.  
They continued until they were rosy cheeked, and their teeth chattered. Their breaths rose in visible puffs, and they were numbing their fingers until they ceased to bend properly, stiffened and frigid. Both were covered in white cold snow, and both weren't wearing their warmest clothing - Will was still even wearing his sleeping clothes.  
While they had had their snowball fight, it had stopped snowing, as if nature knew the flying snowballs would be practically cause the same as new snowflakes descending from the sky. But now, new snow covered their footprints and slowly erased all signs of a snow fight.   
Alyss shuddered as the cold substance ran down her spine.   
"Cold, are you?" Will laughed at her.  
Standing in the wintry paradise, dissolved under a huge amount of white snow, her cheeks flushed pink of the cold, her grey eyes twinkling until they looked silver, Alyss looked like a snow princess who had just stepped out of a fairy tale.  
She seemed to be reading his thoughts and called to him: "Aren't you supposed to be the charming prince in shining armour on his white horse who comes out to rescue his beloved princess, instead of standing there and making stupid comments?"  
Will grinned. "I'd be careful if I were you," he replied easily, "I don't think Tug will appreciate it if you compare him to a 'knight's horse'. I think he calls them 'stupid slow horses without a brain'."  
Alyss laughed softly. "As far as I'm concerned, that's true," she said. "But that's not what I was getting at. I wanted to call a draw." Will raised an eyebrow, a habit he had copied of Halt himself.  
"Are you sure?" he asked, "Cause if you'd ask me, I'd say that I won."  
"Which is exactly why I am not asking you," Alyss replied sweetly. "But it's getting rather cold, and if you agree on calling a draw, then I might have a change on challenging you again later, to finish what we've started."  
Will grinned and bowed teasingly. "On those terms, I'll gladly accept your request, milady."  
While they had been talking, Alyss had walked towards Will, rather than keeping the 10-meter-long gap between the two of them.  
Will grinned widely at her, and she smiled in return. The cold that had seemed mild at first now numbed their faces and extremities. With each breath, more heat rose in puffs of white vapour, and the wind cut on their bare skin.  
"Will, I was thinking," Alyss began, leaving the sentence hanging before going on. Will never replied with 'Always a dangerous pastime' to Alyss. He had never done it and never would. If you'd ask him why not, the young Ranger wouldn't even be able to explain. Just like the things he had always done without reason, he had never done this. So he just patiently waited until she would go on. Which she did.  
"I was wondering, have you ever thought about having children?"  
Will frowned, opened his mouth, and asked: "No, well, yes, I mean, sort of, but - not really, I guess, why?"  
Will's face was momentarily wearing a puzzled expression, his mind a surging complexity.  
Alyss linked her fingers in Will's hand and shot him a look that was all love, just the right hint of softness, her grey eyes twinkling.  
Slowly Will began to understand where his wife was getting at. The sicknesses in the morning just before work. The headaches and the sleeplessness. The fact that she had been wearing more wide clothes instead of her tight dresses and the sandals instead of tighter shoes. And now her question.   
With an amused smile, Alyss saw the confusion in his eyes turn into realization, then surprise, and finally, pride. His mouth opened as if he wanted to say something, but his throat wouldn't release any words. He realized how stupid he looked, and quickly shut his mouth. His lips formed a huge, proud smile and in an instant, both had instantly forgotten about the cold.  
He pulled Alyss slightly closer. Still holding one of her hands, he laid his other hand on her - as he realized now - slightly swollen stomach. Alyss laid her free hand on his and gently squeezed it.  
His hands moved around her waist, warm and soft and pulled her closer until they could feel each other's warm breaths on their skin. Her hands moved over his warm back to call him closer, then slid up his chest and encircled his neck.  
The brown, surprised eyes met the grey proud ones.  
And their lips touched, in the ideal, perfect example of softness, passion, and the promise of sweetness to come.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IIIIIIIIIII LOVE WILLYSSSSS !!!!!!!!!  
> ~Rose


	3. Names, Godparents, etc.

III: Names, Godparents and More of That Stuff

The dishes had all been cleaned and put away. The fire was crackling merrily from the stone fireplace, and there was some wood stacked on the hearth for later. It was again snowing outside, but the doors and windows were all closed, and thanks to the fire, the atmosphere inside was warm and cozy. For once, everything was right.  
It didn't happen very often, living the life of a Ranger and a Courier, but sometimes, you can think and think and think, and you can look and look and look, and just not find anything wrong with the world, Will knew. He was inside, and warm, and full of good coffee. He was sitting on a comfortable couch with his wife leaning next to him. There were no tasks that needed doing, no places that needed traveling to, no dangerous battles that needed fighting. Just him and his wife, sitting quietly and enjoying each other's company.  
"Will?" Alyss' low-pitched, feminine voice broke the comfortable silence. Will squeezed her hand gently as a sign that he was listening, and she continued, slowly, not rushing any of the words, and giving Will time to think about them. Just like every time she spoke, Will was almost mesmerized by the sound of her voice, which had a unique cadence that reminded him of a stream flowing over smooth stones.  
"Do you think we should already discuss some things for the sake of the baby?"  
"Maybe we should. I mean, the better it's sorted out, the easier," Will agreed. He hadn't yet thought about it all. If he was honest, he hadn't thought about anything else than that they were going to be parents. Alyss had only told him she was expecting this morning, and one way or another, he hadn't yet quite gotten over the surprise yet. But whether they liked it or not, they did have to keep in mind that the fact that they were expecting didn't mean their jobs were less dangerous.   
"Alright then," Alyss began, a bit more enthusiastic that her husband and father-to-be. "Godparents?" Both of them didn't like thinking about what if one of them - or, in this case, the both of them - would die. Yet Will did have an answer ready.   
"Horace and Cassandra," he optioned immediately and without a doubt. Alyss was slightly less sure about the choice.   
"Do you think that would be a possibility? You know, being the King and Queen and having your own daughter and Queen-to-be to raise?" Alyss doubted.   
"They'd do it. You know they would. They wouldn't care if it was with or against the protocol," Will declared. She nodded in agreement. He was right. Horace and Cassandra would find a place for their kid, just like they would for them.   
"Alright then. We also have to think of someone to take care of the baby when we're both on a mission," Alyss continued. Will thought about it, then answered: "I think the easiest choice would be asking Pauline."  
Alyss nodded in agreement. "Yeah, I had thought about her as well. I know she's trying to do less work, and when Halt isn't around she's always eager to take care of something. I think she'd enjoy it more than she'd tell us."  
"And Halt will enjoy it too," Will grinned. "He'll never admit it, but he'll enjoy himself. I know for a fact that he's thinking about retiring, so I guess he'll like to have something to keep him busy."  
His wife looked at him in surprise.   
"Really? Is Halt thinking about retiring?" Will nodded.   
"Please don't tell him I said that," he warned her, "I don't think he wants people to know. It's just something I assume," he shrugged it off. Alyss smiled warmly.   
"I'd expect so," she said. Both of them felt a strong relationship with the jaded, grim Ranger. To Will, he'd always been a mentor, a father-figure, someone who'd give everything just to help him. To Alyss, he'd become something just like a dad. Through the years, he'd been someone she could trust, someone to ask advice.   
"And how about names?" she asked, and she eyed him curiously. Will coughed, as to mask the fact that he didn't want to think about that at all.   
"Uhm, I don't know..." he admitted, "Can't we just... discuss that later?"  
Alyss grinned amusedly and rested her head on his shoulder. She'd expected an answer like that. She knew Will was probably still shocked, and she was just gently teasing him.   
"You know, I think names are useless anyway. They don't reveal anything about a person other than that their parents liked it. Names don't tell us what job they have or where they come from or how old they are, it's just... there. It's just a word given to celebrate the birth and to differentiate from others, but more than one person can have the same name," she said. Will smiled. He knew that she was lying. Every mother-to-be loved it; to choose names for their baby, so did Alyss. He appreciated the fact that she was willing to wait for him, though. He decided to bring up one of the last matters that had to be discussed.  
"So. When are we going to spread the word?"  
Alyss laughed softly. "I actually didn't want to tell anyone, you know, see how long it takes them to notice. But Pauline knows I haven't been feeling very well lately, and I think she is getting a bit suspicious. Also, it won't take long before I won't fit into my dresses anymore, so maybe it does is fair to tell them."   
Will grinned. "That's probably the best idea. I mean, they're not stupid."  
"Oh, no. They certainly aren't," Alyss agreed smilingly. "So guess we should tell them anytime soon."  
"What do you have to tell us?" a familiar voice startled them suddenly. Will jumped and turned around to face a small, yet not less threatening figure at their threshold.  
"Gorlog's beard, Halt!" the younger Ranger cursed. "Can't you for once not try to sneak up on us?"  
Halt grinned deviously. "Keeping secrets, are we?"  
"God, no, well, maybe, but they wouldn't be your business then, would they?" Will ended it. He wasn't ready to discuss any secrets he may or may not have. At another time, another day, he might have been more than willing to have word fight with his former mentor, but right now wasn't the time. Halt shrugged.   
"Alright then," he said, and he stepped into the room to take a seat at the table. He was soon followed by a taller, female figure and Alyss quickly stood up when she saw that her mentor too had come to visit.  
While Halt sat down, Alyss quickly hugged Pauline, after which both graceful Diplomates sat down at the table as well. Will was preparing coffee and tea, and after a minute or so he placed four mugs at the table.  
"Alright," Halt said, when his former apprentice had sat down as well. "What was this matter you had to tell us?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for this boring chapter? I’m not at all happy with it to be honest. I’m busy adding some action in the next ones!  
> ~Rose


	4. "Wait, what?"

IV: “Wait, what?”

Will and Alyss looked at each other. Will shrugged and gestured that she could tell them. This moment was as good as any other, so there wasn't any use in waiting. Withal, it was her big news, so she should be the one to tell them, he thought.  
Alyss folded her hands around her cup of warm tea and looked for the right words to tell them. Telling Will had been easier, but somehow it didn't feel right to just drop the word and tell their mentors, she thought. But after a minute or so, she decided that that was exactly what she was going to do.  
"I'm expecting," she simply said. For a few moments everyone was silent, while snowflakes drifted against the windows, politely begging entrance and then falling with disappointment to the ground.   
Pauline was the first to react. This wasn't weird at all because:  
a. Will already knew,  
b. Alyss already knew and was the main person waiting for a response,  
c. Halt almost choked in his coffee and was too busy coughing.  
"I knew it!" Pauline exclaimed, "Congratulations!"  
Halt looked at his wife in surprise. "You knew it?" he repeated. She nodded, not paying any further attention to him.   
"How far are you?" she asked interestedly. Will looked with even more interest at his wife. During all the excitement of that day, he had totally forgotten to ask when the baby was expected to arrive.  
"I'm supposed to be halfway my eighth week," a beaming Alyss answered proudly.   
While the two women chattered on about the news of Alyss's pregnancy, the two Ranger's caught each other's attention. Will knew that even though he would never admit it, Halt did was excited for them. In the older Ranger's eyes he saw something close to pride, and his lips twitched in what you could call the shadow of a smile.  
Halt and Pauline never had kids themselves. But through the years their relationships with their apprentices had become incredibly strong, and they saw them as if they were their own children. So, theoretically, they were about to become grandparents.   
And that thought, enjoyed the elderly couple more than they would ever care to admit.   
The younger Ranger took a sip of his hot coffee and nodded at the pile of paper in Halt's hands.   
"What have you brought with you?" he asked. The conversation between the two Couriers died down. They both expected their husbands to have a new mission, a new case, and both of them were eager to know what they'd leave for.  
Halt shove the with documents filled paper over the table, in his former apprentice's hands. Said person placed his now empty mug on the table and opened the folder, carefully studying the documents inside it.   
"Are we both going? Is it within the boundaries of Redmont Fief? What is exactly the problem?" Will sent all questions rapidly at his poor mentor, without looking up from the papers on the table.  
"Curiosity killed the cat," Halt said.  
"But satisfaction brought it back," Will immediately replied.   
"That doesn't even make any sense - cats have nine lives," Halt said.   
"Well, it actually does make sense," Alyss said, her chin resting in one hand, her other hand holding a cup of nice, warm tea. "It originates from 'care killed the cat'. By 'care', the coiner of the expression meant 'worry or sorrow' rather than our more usual contemporary 'look after or provide for' meaning. Yet the fact that cats are notoriously inquisitive, led to the source of their demise being changed from 'care' to 'curiosity'. This proverbial expression is used when someone is attempting to stop someone asking unwanted questions."   
"Are my questions unwanted, Halt?" Will asked quasi-surprised. Halt grunted something, and something in his tone made no misunderstanding that Will's questions were, indeed, rather unwanted. Pauline smiled and gently laid a hand on his arm.  
"Come on, Halt; just answer his questions."  
Halt sighed irritated but did what he was asked to. He took a last sip of his coffee, placed his mug on the table and folded his arms.  
"Yes, we're both going. Yes, it's within Redmont's boundaries. And the problem is a group of bandits," he answered every single question. He decided to answer all upcoming questions as well, so continued: "This folder comes directly from Crowley," he said, "Apparently, there's this group of bandits, there are about six of them, who have been traveling through Araluen for the past few weeks. There has yet not been a single Ranger who's been able to stop them from ruining things and taking everything they can, with them. That's why Crowley has sent us this information. He has been able to set out a route they seem to follow, and according to that route, the group can arrive in Redmont every day. Since we're with two Rangers, Crowley thinks we might have more chance to succeed."  
"It shouldn't be too much of a problem," Will agreed, as he kept studying the documents interestedly. Halt raised his famous eyebrow.  
"Shouldn't it? While you can't even hear the two of us arrive?" he asked sharply.   
"Whatever you were talking about, it's no reason not to pay attention. You didn't hear us arriving, which you should have. How would that have ended if someone with dark plans was planning on surprising you?"  
"Well, Halt, I think we can call your plans 'dark'," Will effectively avoid Halt's original question. Although... maybe slightly less effective that he'd hoped. His former master wasn't impressed and said: "How is it possible that you missed Tug's warning?"  
Will put back the papers into the folder and closed it. "I didn't hear it, because Tug never warned," he explained. Halt raised his eyebrow higher than ever before. "He did," he replied.  
"He did not," Will said again. The two diplomats at the table both shook their heads. From experience they knew that this game of 'Yes he did' and 'No he did not', could go on forever, if only they got a chance to. Which they didn't.   
"I didn't hear Tug either," Alyss declared. Will looked triumphantly.  
"You see, Halt, I told you! Tug knows your horses - he doesn't always warn me when you're the one arriving."  
Halt opened his mouth to say something, but Pauline was first. "Stop it, Halt," she said. Somehow she managed to say that gently, yet not less threatening.   
"Tug didn't warn them and you know it."  
Halt shrugged, not impressed. "Then you should've heard me when I opened the door. It creaked." Will opened his eyes widely in disbelief. "The door didn't creak!"  
Halt thought about it for a second or so, then said slowly: "Hmm... no... Now that you say it... I belief I didn’t hear the door creak as well. Then I've got another question for you: why didn't it creak?"  
"I belief I'm the one responsible for that," said Alyss guiltily, "I was going crazy of the creaking every time, so I oiled it this afternoon."  
Halt said something under his breath, which was inaudible, but no one felt the need to ask him what he'd said. Pauline smiled amusedly and stoop up.   
"Maybe it's a good idea if we head home. I expect you two want to leave soon?"  
Will looked at Halt questionably at those words, and the bearded Ranger nodded. "Yeah, it'll be easier to find them that way," he said, while he stood up as well. Pauline embraced Alyss, while Will looked at Halt."  
"See you tomorrow," he greeted.   
"Tomorrow morning early," Halt corrected him. Will rolled his eyes. Rangers had been making this joke for years.   
"See you tomorrow morning early."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know your thoughts about this chapter!!!  
> ~Rose


	5. Surprise

V: Surprise 

It was cold. Ice-cold. The trunks of fallen trees bore icicles longer than a hand, no two of them the same - more enchanting than any work of man. Every twig and blade of grass grew winter "leaves" of ice crystals, frost deeper than the wool and leather of their gloves and clothing. The unnatural, choking mist that swirled and sprawled on the forest floor reminded them both of the smoke bombs Malcolm had invented, but never had that smoke been as thick and long lasting as this one.   
The white substance on the ground and branches of the trees seemed to possess liquid properties which only reminded of the maggot-like texture of the eyes of a dead man who had been forgotten in his apartment for a few months, ready to burst at the slightest touch. The smoke made no sound however and only parted to swallow up their feet as they marched upon the giant dead, festering eyeball of the forest floor. The sound of mushy and dead leaves whispered from under the skin of the mist, ear deafening in the silent forest. Birds did not chirp and there were no other animals who's sounds submerged from between the trees.   
The two Rangers rode on their horses over the icy path, deeply huddled in their cloaks, their cowls far pulled over their heads. They hadn't been trotting for some time, the risk of falling too big. Instead, they just walked in a quick pace, making sure to stay firm on the slippery path.   
If one of them would fall, it would most certainly have terrible results.  
They had left Castle Redmont two days ago, so had been riding for two long days in this extremely cold weather, without anything that happened. It wasn't weird though. According to the route Crowley had made, the group of bandits would only reach Redmonth a few days later. Even so, Halt and Will had decided to disappear from human eyes.  
If the bandits thought they were safe, they might get cocky and be easier to catch, Halt's newest wisdom called.   
Yet that thought didn't make the weather any better.  
At least it had stopped snowing, Will thought. The only thing that could make the circumstances worse was the fact that they would not only be incredible cold, but soaking wet as well. That situation would be close to unbearable.   
"Things are going to change, aren't they?" Will looked up, surprised, roughly taken from his thoughts, when Halt's deep voice broke the silence. Without any context, the younger Ranger had no idea what is mentor was talking about.   
"What?" he asked astonished, and he saw how Halt sighed wearily.   
"Alyss. Pregnancy. Baby?" he explained. Will's eyes lightened when he understood what Halt was talking about, and when he was reminded of the happy news Alyss had told him two days ago.   
"Oh, yeah, of course!" he said, "Yeah, I think things will change rather a lot. I mean, when one of us - or both - leave for a mission, or something like that."  
"I think you should send Crowley a letter. He'll probably be okay with you taking a few weeks off in the weeks around her giving birth. And I believe Alyss wouldn't be okay with you not being there."  
Will nodded in agreement and grinned sheepishly.   
"Yeah, I will. We were going to send Horace and Cassandra a letter and I'll add one for Crowley as well. I haven't had time for it yet - you had gotten me out to camp in this awful weather before I had any chance of doing so."  
His face hidden in the shadows of his big cowl, Will luckily didn't see Halt smile. The older Ranger was aware of the fact that this was the last subject Will had expected him to talk about. But he was also aware of the fact that his apprentice wanted to talk about it, and for one time he was willing to be the listening ear. And, if needed and possible, to give advice.   
The old, jaded Ranger knew from experience how hard life of a Ranger could be. And Will's relatively short life had been filled with a lot of horrible experiences any normal person would not even dare to dream of. He was glad he former apprentice had gotten another source of light in his life. He was happy for Alyss, too. Life of a Ranger's wife wasn't easy as well and he knew she was looking forward to the new adventure.  
Meanwhile, Will kept talking cheerfully. "I do think there will be some hard times as well, though, especially for Alyss. I think-"  
He abruptly fell silent when Halt raised a hand. There had been a sound.   
Not even a second later, both Tug and Abelard confirmed such a sound. The two Rangers felt it more than that they heard it, the rumbling sound deep inside the chest of the two horses. They turned their heads towards the place they had heard it, somewhere along their right side. Will followed their example and it made him smell something.   
"Fires," he said quietly, and Halt nodded. He had smelled the same. They kept walking for another few minutes, until Will thought to see something on the ground. He bowed, almost out of his saddle and pushed some frozen branches to the side. Tracks. Of a grown up men, apparently, who was wearing woolen clothing, Will decided, as soon as he saw some brown wool hanging on one of the branches. He got it out of there and showed it to Halt. His mentor nodded and gestured him to get off his horse. From this place onward they'd go walking.   
Silently ghosting through the silent forest, the two Rangers moved slowly to where they expected the camp to be. Of course, it could be a normal camp with no dangers or secrets, but it was unlikely. No one was willing to go out camping in this horrible weather.   
After a few minutes the odor of smoking fires got stronger and they even heard some voices. They sounded muted, as if they wanted no one to hear them. But the forest was completely deserted, so every small sound was easily hearable.  
Hidden in the shadows of a few trees Will and Halt stood watching. Their cloaks didn't truly conceal them in this whitish landscape, but they were warm and comfortable. And they wouldn't be more concealed without them, so they had decided to keep them on.  
"They shouldn't be here already," Will said quietly, "They shouldn't be here for another few days at least!" Halt, who had had the same thoughts, nodded. They had been watching the camp for over an hour, and it was clear this was the camp they had been looking for. But not already.   
"Apparently they're quicker and better than we thought," he said, just as quiet. "They are way too professional - look at the way they set up their camp!"  
He was right. The fires were smartly hidden, so that the smoke wouldn't be very visible. Their tents were set up near each other, in a small circle, but with enough space so that they couldn't be surprised easily. They were with more than they'd expected as well. Crowley had written that they were with about six bandits, yet there were nine visible. Two bandits were keeping sentry, each at the other side of the camp. One stood with the horses. The others watched the flames, cleaned up or prepared their weaponry. All together a dangerous group, Halt thought. But watching them didn't make them less threatening.   
"Let's go," he told Will, "We're not gaining anything if we stay, and we need to think of a good plan to catch them - preferably tomorrow! The longer we wait, the less chance of success we have, and the weather isn't getting any better as well."  
Will slowly nodded and looked one more time and the hostile camp. Then they turned around to return to Tug and Abelard, when a deep voice stopped them.  
"Who for the devil are you and what are you doing here?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaaaaaand the action has startedddd!!!! Wouldn't that be a nice plottwist, if Halt and Will would be in trouble before they had really started? ;-)  
> ~Rose


	6. Don't trust the cloak

VI: Don’t trust the cloak   
Will instantly stood still, motionless, but Halt pulled at his jacket to get him running. Without hesitation, he did so, and together they ran towards their horses, a kilometer or so to the south. They ran, their feet kissing the ground. They ran, like the winter breeze colliding into inanimate objects and crashing waves hitting the shore line.   
Without looking back Will knew the man was following them, but he wasn't fast enough to keep up with them. He heard him push frozen branches to the side, and one time he almost tripped over a fallen tree trunk.   
"Hey! You there! Stop!" he yelled, but of course, without a reply.   
When they were halfway, Halt suddenly stopped moving. Will almost bumped in to him. The bearded Ranger raised a hand to keep the question in his apprentice's eyes from being spoken out loud. He shook his head.   
Will didn't move, but pricked his ears. Somewhere, a few meters to their right, someone was pushing leaves to the side and cursing if cold snow from the trees fell down and dissolved him.   
"Hello?" the unknown voice called, "I know you're here!" But after a few minutes without reply he seemed to give up.   
"Damn this weather," the man muttered, as he turned around and a new load of snow fell on his head. Will heard him curse a few more times as he slowly disappeared into the distance. He turned to face Halt, a million questions in his eyes.   
"Not now," his mentor hissed, "We first need to get somewhere further away."

>>>\----------> <\----------<<<

 

"You always told me to stand still when I thought I'd been seen. Now you told me to do the exact opposite and run! What the hell happened to 'trust the cloak'?" Will exclaimed as he dismounted Tug. He unsaddled his horse and gave him a sweet apple, as he waited for a reply.  
You messed up again, didn't you?  
Will ignored his horse and kept looking at Halt.   
"I taught you to stand still when you thought you'd been seen, very well. But it wouldn't have helped us this time. That man had either seen or heard us, and knew our position. If we would've stayed, we would've been caught most certainly. He obviously isn't stupid. And besides, our cloaks don't help us to blend in with the background in this damned weather. No, if we would run, we might have a chance of escape. If we're lucky he thinks it was just an animal or something," Halt said, as he treated Abelard the same way Will had Tug.  
"We are never that lucky," Will muttered and Halt almost smiled.   
"Mostly we're not," he agreed. "But that's another problem. Now, what are we going to do to stop them with this nonsense?"  
"Let's discuss that after a good cup of coffee," Will proposed. He got his stuff out of his bag, then turned around to face Halt when he heard him clear his throat.   
"You're not going to tell me that it's too dangerous to make fire, are you? Cause I don't care what you say I need some good coffee or I'll freeze to death."   
Halt smirked and shook his head. He gestured him to go on, which Will gladly did, looking forward to a nice, warm cup of dark coffee with some sweet honey...  
A few minutes later both Rangers sat with a mug of hot coffee around the small fire Will had build. Will was explaining one of his plans to his former mentor, but Halt didn't pay attention. Something about the man that had followed them had seen odd. It had made him think about something of years ago, around the first war with Morgarath... He had seen little of the man just before he had ran off. He didn't look very young - Halt guessed he was around the same age as he was. But where did he know him from?  
"Halt?" Will interrupted his thoughts, "Are you even listening? I just explained my plan most comprehensively and to be honest with you, I don't know how well I'll be able to repeat it." Halt looked up, right in his student's face. And he instantly knew.   
It was Jerrel.   
Will must have seen the shock and astonishment in his eyes, cause he asked worriedly: "Halt? What's wrong?" Halt shook his head. It couldn't be correct. Jerrel was supposed to be dead. Halt himself had killed him, years ago.   
After trying to order his thoughts and failing, he sighed deeply and looked at Will.  
"It's about that man that followed us," he explained, "I felt like I had seen him before, but I didn't know where and when. I do now."  
"Where do you know him of? Who is it?" Will asked curiously. If it was something Halt was worried about, he thought, then it needed to be something very serious. And dangerous.  
Halt sighed deeply again and sipped of his coffee. This one time, he didn't mind the fact that Will had asked multiple questions. He knew what he thought. And he was right. But he really did not know how or where to start.   
"That man," he finally started, "is called Jerrel. I told you about him, years ago." Will still didn't know what he was talking about. Halt forgave him. It had been years since he'd called that name once.  
"He was one of the men who killed your mother."

He wasn't sure what exactly Will's reaction was. Surprise and anger seemed to be fighting with each other as Will struggled to find a reply. Finally, he said one simple word: "How?"  
His mentor unknowingly shrugged. "I don't know," he admitted, "Maybe he pretended to be dead - maybe I hadn't hit him as good as I thought I had. Maybe it was't even him, the man who followed us I mean, but someone who just looked like him."  
He believed his words as much as his former apprentice did. Barely. Will didn't believe him because he knew Halt was mostly right, and Halt himself didn't believe it because he knew what he had seen, even though it wasn't much.   
They stayed dead silent.   
Halt saw his apprentice was angry at the way his knuckles turned white of the strong grip around his mug. The grey-beared Ranger laid a calming hand on his arm, and the young Ranger looked up, the anger clearly visible in his brown eyes.   
"This doesn't change anything," he said, "It's still a gang of bandits we have to stop from doing what they're good at. The fact that one of them killed your mother doesn't change anything."  
But Will shook his head desperately, disagreeing. "It does! It changes everything Halt!" he said, "For years I lived thinking my mother died in childbirth. When I was older, you told me how she had actually died and I was okay with it, because you had revenged her by killing those men! And now you tell me you probably didn't kill one of them, and that that person is still walking around. I'm sorry, but it changes everything."  
"It doesn't," Halt protested, but he gave in when he saw Will's disapproving look.   
"Okay, maybe it does. But you do have to keep your emotions under control." Will looked at him, unbelievably. Halt smiled. It was the smile of a wolf.   
"But I won't stop you from hurting him a little more than you'd otherwise."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so there you go XD You do have a plottwist but not the one you expected, er? I was actually going to stop after "He was one of the men who killed your mother" but that didn't really fit into my storyline whoops  
> Anyway. What did you think? Do you like the plottwist? Do you think Will will (I hate those sentences XD) keep his emotions under control? I doubt it...;)  
> Please leave some feedback – thanks!  
> ~Rose


	7. More unfortunate surprises

VII: More Unfortunate Surprises  
>>>\---------->  
No-one got to be leader without having the morals of a sewer rat. For all their "code" the only one that counts was the most barbaric scum-bag rules. Be loyal or be more savage, that's the way it is, Will thought, as he stood watching the gang of criminals from between the shadows of some trees. In this case, the sewer rat's name was Jerrel.   
Jerrel was resting against the wooden pillar with a face of utter nonchalance, as if he were merely waiting for a friend on a spring day, apple in hand. He wasn't slumped at all, his body was clearly too muscular for that, yet it was just as relaxed as his face.  
And somehow that, seeing him relaxing, seeing him not being haunted by any crimes he'd committed, was the breaking point of Will's patience.   
"Dammit," Halt sighed. He knew Will wouldn't have his emotions under control. He knew he'd be blinded by a five-course serving of rage that tasted bitter, yet surprisingly satisfying.   
They had agreed to wait on either side, until the situation was right. Preferably when they were all scattered around, Halt had said, not when they were all in a group together. Only then would they attack, together, and hopefully surprise them enough to have them surrender.  
Yet there his former apprentice stood, out of the shadows, visible for any of the bandits, without bow and with only his two knives - in his scabbard.   
"Jerrel!" Will called. The so-called man looked up, startled.   
"Well, good morning, Ranger," he greeted as he stood up, "Didn't expect you to pay us a visit." Some of the bandits laid their hands on their gleaming weapons and came closer, but one raised hand of Jerrel stopped them.  
"No jokes, Jerrel," Will said harshly, "I know what you've been doing the past weeks and I'm here to tell you that it's over."  
"Is it?" Jerrel's eyebrows shot up in played surprise, "Why? What have I ever done to you personally that you're standing there, so filled with anger."   
"You killed a woman," Will answered. His voice was emotionless, but his eyes were cold. Jerrel shrugged.   
"You're right," he admitted, "More than one, actually."  
"More than twenty years ago," Will continued. "You and your friend surprised her, the day after our army had defeated Morgarath's for the first time. You told her that her husband was dead, and threatened to kill her and her baby too if they wouldn't be nice. You killed her later anyway."  
Jerrel laughed out loud now that he was reminded of that day. "That's correct, hahaha. But I forgot about this whole affaire and I suggest you do the same - I don't know why you haven't already, though."  
"She was my mother," Will said. The anger in his voice as obvious as could be. Jerrel shrugged once again, as if to say 'So what?'.  
"And you came all the way here to tell me this?" he asked. Will shook his head.   
"Listen. Nobody joins a gang without being a lost soul first. No-one goes to a monster for guidance unless it's their only option. Well, I'm giving you another option. If you lay down your weapons now, I'll make sure you'll get a fair trail. That's all I can do."  
No one laid down their weapons, and Jerrel laughed. "Did you really think they'd give up this life for one behind bars?" he sneered. "No way in hell, Ranger."  
Will shrugged. "Alright. I'll just have to kill the all of you then, I guess."   
There was stillness on both sides. If hatred was visible, the air would have been scarlet. Then suddenly movement, so much force in every blow.   
Each didn't just want the other dead, they wanted him smashed, obliterated, nothing left to bury.   
An unexpected punch glanced at Jerrels chin. He noticed it too late, when a second punch doubled him over and expelled the last bit of choked air form his bear-weighted belly.   
He stood straight, eyes bulging with rage, and started at his attacker, a young man.  
"You... little..." Jerrel took a lurching step forward with each word. On the third, he swung: "Son of a bitch!"  
The blow felt too sluggish. Jerrel knew it the second he launched it. The show, smirking man simply ducked under it. Before Jerrel could even register the dodge, however, another body shot, this one to his ribs, sent fresh ripples of pain through his torso.  
The man went in for another shot. Jerrel shoved him off. He covered the distance between them. Threw three more punched that did land. Will fell.   
The bandits encircled him, all of them taller.   
Jerrel poked him in the chest as soon as he'd crawled up. Halt saw how Will grabbed that hand and bent it back to his chin, while punching him in the stomach at the same time. One grabbed his left arm and he whirled to land one solidly on his jaw, right below his eye. He went down.   
Two of the others then held his arms while another hit him in the stomach twice. Will kicked him solidly in the midsection, which knocked the breath out of him. He bent over but didn't fall.  
When he had kicked the guy in the gut, Will pushed the others back and and they all went down. The Ranger hit a tree getting up. One was on all fours, and he kicked at his chin and landed a hard one on his head. The other was up and ran at Will to tackle him. He stiff-armed him and pushed him to the ground.  
Two of the nine bandits were dead within two minutes, a third had broken his arm and didn't get up. Now it was time to help him, Halt decided firmly.   
He emerged from the trees, his bow in front of him, having shot three arrows before anyone had noticed him. Two of them hit bandits, one barely missed another.   
It was only when their companions fell to the ground that the gang noticed Halt's appearance.   
Will took his chance and reached out, punching another bandit in the face. When his fist came in contact the bandit fell to the ground, wailing in pain and never getting up again, as Will tried to shake the aching after taste, upon the taste buds on his hands.   
Much like coffee, bitterness drew him into taking another sip, knowing he'd be more awake than before. Ignoring the pain in his head and the burning in his lungs. He ignored the deep cut in his leg and tackled another bandit, holding him down so he could not fight back. It was debatable whether or not he could've anyway as Will's fists continued to hit his face, until there was no resistance left in the body.   
It was only then that the Ranger realized the pain, and he sunk to the ground, overwhelmed.   
The pain was like a knife being twisted in his spine. It shot up fast, erasing every thought from his head and paralyzing his boy.   
Meanwhile, Halt had come too close to shot any more arrows and he threw his bow to the side. There were only three bandits left on their feet, Jerrel one of them.  
Halt ran towards where two bandits stood together, eyes wide open, shocked at the amount of blood and fallen comrades. Halt launched his fist and hit one of the two, then kicking the second his legs under his bodies. His launched his fist again, and it hit a jaw with such force blood pooled into his mouth. They tried to hit him with their daggers, but Halt was too quick.  
With his two hands he grasped a head and brought his knee cap up to his nose; there was a blunt crack and he released the dark haired head. The bandit leaked from both his nostrils and his nose was twisted right. He drew his fist back again and it ploughed into Halt's stomach; it was like hitting a train head on. His guts smashed together, blood vessels bursting. Halt repaid this by punching his jaw, his fist collided with all his body weight. He continued this battering until he fell to the floor. His chest gently rose and sank with each shallow breath he drew in, gradually getting less and less until it stopped completely.   
Halt then lifted his right hand, suddenly holding a knife with it and drew it into the last bandits chest. He drew it back and watched him fall to the ground.   
The old Ranger inhaled and exhaled deeply, then turned around to face Jerrel, anger in his eyes, a knife in each hand.   
But the ground was wet with snow and blood, and there were quite some fallen bodies on the ground. Thus, Halt slipped.   
Jerrel, who was never too quick on the uptake, saw that one of his opponents was, for the moment being, helpless before him. With a cry of triumph, he raised the sword in both hands, and stepped forward, preparing to drive it into the prone body on the ground. Halt struggled to rise, but knew it was too late. He remembered how he had been in the exact same situation, years ago. But this time, Jerrel would win.   
Then, all of a sudden, a figure came from nowhere and crashed into Jerrel, clinging to him and knocking him sideways, sending the sword spinning out of his grasp. Halt dodged sideways as the weapon fel close to him, then realized what had happened. There was this vague sense of familiarity that washed over him as he crawled up.  
Will had launched himself at Jerrel, his same knife ready to revenge his mother. But Jerrel twisted so that he was facing him and, drawing his head-bladed dagger, struck out desperately at him.   
The Ranger cried out in pain and released his grip, falling back, hands clutching at the savage wound in his left side. Blood covered his hands instantly, soaking the brown wool of his shirt as he sank to one knee.   
A sudden gush of pain jolted throughout Will's body. His stomach ached, his arms lost tension and his legs began to weaken.   
He will not kill me, he thought, as he dropped to the ground, not now. His tongue was soaked in the taste of blood. Bruised and wounded, with a leg in agony and an opened left side, he grabbed Jerrel's foot and pulled him to the ground. His head was pounding, but he didn't care. He brought his fist to the man's face, snapping his nose into a grotesquerie.   
"Will, go!" he heard a deep voice yell, "If you don't take care of your wounds now you'll regret it later!" He heard Will protest, and Halt reply: "You've done enough! I'll finish this!"  
Jerrel crawled up, not paying attention to the blood on his face or the cut in his leg. Around him, he saw, all his companions lay dead on the ground, either because of an arrow or because of multiple serious wounds. Halt and Will were in a discussion, both of them not paying attention to him.  
This was his chance.   
But luck wasn't with him today.   
As Will jumped on Tug and left, Halt turned around to where Jerrel had been laying on the ground.   
Jerrel threw a haymaker that the Halt ducked but didn't parry, then another that his opponent swung under again - and responded in turn with an uppercut. The sound of his upper and lower rows of teeth making unplanned contact sickened him. Still, he kept his feet, although barely.   
Until Halt was upon up, grasping Jerrel's knife hand and forcing in upwards, while he drew his throwing knife and rammed it deep into Jerrel's body. Jerrel gave a grunt of pain. The heavy dagger fell from his hand, as he sagged to his knees. He fell over sideways, his hands desperately trying to stem the flow of blood running from his wound.   
Halt stood looking for a moment, unsure as for what do to. Jerrel looked up at him.   
"Are you going to watch me die?" he croaked weakly, blood spatting out of his mouth with every word he said.   
"No, you already pulled that joke on me once," Halt replied dryly. Something about the blood seemed odd, he noticed. It didn't flow quickly enough. With this sort of wounds the owner was usually dead within minutes, a result of the fast blood flow. Yet it seemed as if this wasn't the case with Ferrel. And the colour was different too...  
Halt sunk through his knees, ignoring Jerrel's seemingly weak and surprised protests when he cut open the bandit’s shirt. He gasped surprised.   
"Gorlog's beard!"  
The cut didn't reveal a terrible wound, as Halt had expected, but a few flesh-colored sacs filled with blood. A few of those sacs were open, blood looking out.   
"You faked your death," Halt said, then, when Jerrel didn't reply, he repeated it. "You faked your death, then, didn't you? I thought I'd killed you when you weren't even bleeding." He laughed, a cold, humorless laugh. The Ranger stood up and looked down at the bandit, who'd caused so much.   
"Now what to do with you?" he asked, noticing the fear in Jerrel's eyes.  
I can't leave you here, obviously. And I don't feel like taking you with me. I'm afraid Will would kill you then and he'd get in trouble because of that." He paused, thinkingly. Then a devious grin spread over his face.   
"I'm afraid I'll have to kill you," he said, but his voice made no misunderstanding on the fact that he wasn't afraid or sorry at all.  
"No, please, no, mercy, please!" Jerrel screamed. He tried to get up, but Halt pushed him down with one foot.  
"You'll get mercy," he told the bandit, "More than you deserve."  
And with one, quick blow he slid Jerrel's throat. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, Will... I hope you're alright, I truly do! At least Jerrel's dead ;)  
> One might recognize some bits and pieces from The Lost Stories, Death of a Hero. That's on purpose. I wanted it to be familiar :)  
> Did you like it? Oh, I surely hope you did, ‘cause it was a lot of work XD (And damn long as well!)  
> Please comment and vote and see ya next chapter!!!  
> ~Rose


	8. Warmweed

VIII: Warmweed   
It was more falling than anything else, really, the way Will dismounted Tug. He stumbled across the small clearing with indescribable pain flowing through him, falling down as soon as his feet touched the ground. His leg couldn't carry his weight and his open cut side caused pain more severe than he had ever felt before. There was an icy wind, choking the breath from his lungs and making a noose around his neck. Its savage, bitter blasts cut right to his bones and gripped his brain in its freezing claws.   
Oh, how easy wouldn't it be to just lie down and close his eyes? To just lie and let the snow cover him, until the wounds stopped hurting and his heart stopped beating?   
But he couldn't. And he wouldn't.   
Will crawled up, ignoring the ill-making pain and removed his jacket so that he could study his bruises and wounds.   
His skin was covered with great purple welts that would only deepen over the coming week. Against his ghostly skin they were grotesque, but he knew he was lucky not to have broken any bones. His wounds were deep, and blood was still flowing out of them. One thing was for sure, it was going to be very painful to clean and Will's money was on it getting infected too. He washed it with the water from his hiking bottle, grimacing as he rubbed.  
The water hurt. Every new sore stung with the water being washed in, but it was the only way to avoid infection. He winced as it swirled without mercy, penetrating to the cells that should be protected by smooth skin but lay open and raw.  
Next came the bandaging and treating of the wounds. Will decided to start with the one in his side, knowing he had to stop the bleeding as soon as possible.  
In order to treat the wound efficiently, he had to put off his gloves, but the minute he did so his fingers froze immediately, due to the icy cold.   
"The pain must be gone before I can treat it," he told himself, and he knew there was only one way to make the pain decrease. He got out the tube with warmweed salve and opened it.   
It was a huge mistake.  
Sitting in the snow, accompanied only by his horse, the sudden smell of the warmweed was incredible. There was nothing, nothing but the smell of warmweed, a smell he detested, avoided, feared.   
Tug whinnied nervously, noticing the change in his master and friend, but Will didn't hear him. He was hurt, cold and overwhelmed. Somewhere deep inside him, he knew how he could stop that all; the pain, the cold. The solution lay in his hand.   
As Will knelt in the freshly fallen snow, the tube of warmweedsalve in one hand, memories ransacked his mind. Tormented with what could have been, memories taunted him with a savage intensity. The images were so real, so crystal clear, it was like reliving the months in Skandia once again.   
The coldness.  
Will felt the panic begin like a cluster of spark plugs in his abdomen, as thin cellophane, something his fingers could pierce breathing holes in. Yet tension began to grow in his face and limbs, and the panic turned into a deluge of ice water surrounding him completely.   
Inside his head, the months in Skandia were replayed. His breathing became more rapid, more shallow, and his breaths came in gasps. Thoughts were accelerating inside his head and he felt like he was going to black out. His heart was hammering inside his chest, and the pain increased even more.   
The pain.  
The woods around Will began to spin and he squatted on the ground, trying to make everything slow down to something his brain and body could cope with. He tried to scream, to scream for Evanlyn, who had helped him through this once and undoubtedly could again. Yet an invisible hand had clasped over his mouth; an equally ghostly hypodermic of adrenaline piercing his heart, unloading in an instant. His ribs heaved as if bound by ropes, straining to inflate his lungs, and failing every time again.   
He didn't want to, he. Didn't. Want to, but it was such an easy solution. All he had to do was open his mouth and get some of the familiar smell in his mouth. His hand was shaking, his entire body was shaking. Part of him wanted to, the other didn't.   
But it was such an easy solution to stop the pain and the cold.   
Will's head was a carousel of fears and memories spinning out of control, each one trying to push his mind into blackness. His pain was an ocean of unknown depths, wait currents and lurking beasts. The panic moved across him, seizing every movement and locking his limbs in place long enough for it to cleave and claim another part of his being. He wanted the pain and the cold to stop, to end, to leave him alone, but they didn't.   
He screamed. But it wasn't the sound of an adult. It was a child's scream, barely sixteen, its scream coming from a place of terror, telling of a mind lost in absolute fear.   
It was the scream of a boy, deserted and alone, far from home and in an unknown land.   
What if Erak hadn't helped them to escape?   
He was drowning in coldness, coldness he had survived once, but maybe couldn't survive again.  
What if Evanlyn hadn't been able to cure him from his addiction?   
The tube with warmweed salve. In his right hand. He wanted to. But he couldn't. Or could he?  
What if...?  
In his intense silence he somehow screamed with his whole body. The eyes wide with horror, the mouth rigid and open, his chalky face gaunt and immobile, the fists clenched with blanched knuckles and the nails digging deeply into the palms of his hand.  
Suddenly, the pain was gone, and so was the cold. A moment later everything was gone, and Will was drowning in black. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay. Alright. So. Yeah.   
> I was reading what I'd written and oh. Oh. It can definitely be better but oh. Oh Will. Damn that warmweed!!!  
> Please please PLEASE let me know what you thought!!! If you have any tips please tell me because I'm not incredibly happy with the way I've written it - but most importantly: let me know what you thought of this chapter!!!  
> ~Rose


	9. It's over

XI: It’s over  
A scream tore through him like a great shard of glass.   
Halt felt his eyes widen and pulse quicken, his heart thudding like a rock rattling in a box. The scream came again, desperate, terrified... human. The blood drained from his face as he realized to whom that sound belonged, and before he was even aware of making a conscious decision his legs were pounding furiously on the uneven snowy track, his ears straining for more sounds, more clues as to where it had come from. The old Ranger had no clue as to what he'd do when he got there, just that he had to get there, fast.   
Halt pitched his ears when he heard a new sound. Whinnying. Desperate whinnying. It sounded familiar, and Abelard turned to the right when he heard it, whinnying a reply. Halt soon followed, pushing away and breaking frozen branches and in snow covered leaves. They entered a small clearing, and as Abelard rushed towards Tug, Halt almost sucked in his breath.  
Will lay on the ground, his face ghostly pale, his lips bluish, his eyes closed. His body was surrounded by a pool of dark, red blood.   
"No," Halt whispered and he ran towards lifeless figure, "No, no, no!"  
He grabbed his apprentice's wrist and desperately searched for a pulse, a sign that he was not dead. He couldn't be. He was Will. Will Treaty. He had survived so many things and he couldn't die because he'd saved Halt's life.   
Just like his mother had.   
Halt sunk back, giving up, ready to let tears stream down over his face.   
But when his mentor released his grip on him, Will screamed, screamed like a baby in a tumble dryer, garbled, muffled, intermittent, but none the less distressing and intense.  
To say Halt was happy that he screamed may sound worse than it actually was. He was happy. He was so, so, indescribably happy, that it took a moment for him to realize what he had to do. Will was still alive, though barely, so his wounds needed to be cured. Halt quickly stood up and whistled. Abelard came running at him, followed by Tug, who wore a nervous expression. The Ranger took his aid box from his saddle and gestured the horses to give him some space. With his smallest knife he cut open Will's shirt on the side, in order to see the wound in his side that seemed to affect him most.   
Only then did he see what Will was holding in his hand.   
The tube of warmweed salve.   
Halt felt his heart sunk down. Will's situation wasn't affected only by the wounds. It had another, more emotional reason.   
In his life, Halt had seen crazy men, panic attacks, seen people go wild by just a sight, a sound or a smell. He knew that in order to heal from psychological and emotional trauma, you had to face and resolve the unbearable feelings and memories you had long avoided.   
But not like this.   
Not in a situation similar to the one you'd experienced that trauma in. Not all of a sudden, not alone.   
Physical wounds were healable. Emotional wounds, however, were less so. And a repeat of the event spoken about could worsen the memories.   
>>>\----------> <\----------<<<  
Will lay on the ground, his pale face closed in a grimace, his skin pale and clammy. Every now and then he'd scream. It had a raw quality, the realness of a person consumed by pain that knew no end or limit. A second later he'd go quiet, just panting. His eyes had frozen over like the surface of a winter puddle, robbing them of their usual warmth. He was in there, Halt knew, but it was like he had just taken a huge step back from life. It was questionable when and if, he would take that huge step forward again.   
He had managed to take the tube of warmweed salve from Will's strong grip. His apprentice had muttered weakly formed protests, trying to keep the bottle close to him, but if he would let him win now, the warmweed would win as well.   
Somehow, his situation had managed to get worse, ever after Halt had removed the tube of warmweed and had taken care of his wounds. He had tried to remove the overwhelming smell of warmweed as well as he could, but it seemed as if it had all caused more pain and coldness in his apprentice's body. Shivering in his sleeping back, Will's temperature had risen until unhealthy.   
"Will Treaty if you die on me, I swear I'll kill you," Halt muttered. And he vowed that he would never, never let him near warmweed again.  
>>>\----------> <\----------<<<  
Will lay still on the ground, his skin sunken in tone to something close to lifeless, his face paler than the snow. His eyes were closed and he sucked himself into a deeper place to cope. Halt had been in this dark place as well, felt more pain than he knew a human body could bare and it broke him to see his apprentice, his son, hurt even more.  
Halt rubbed Tug's face, scratching his ears and stroking the forelock that feel between his eyes.   
"He'll be alright, Tug, I promise. He isn't going to leave us. Not me, not you, not Alyss... no one."  
Tug grunted and shook out his manes, whinnying, before returning to Abelard. Both horses stayed close to their masters, watching, paying attention to any sounds or movements.   
But there was nothing, nothing Halt could do. He had cleaned his wounds, had build a fire and had removed all signs and smells of warmweed he could. Only time would tell now.   
>>>\----------> <\-----------<<<  
Finally, the third day since Will had lost consciousness had arrived. Slowly, the snow had started to melt. The past three days he had been laying on the ground, dead silent, barely moving. Every now and then he had screamed desperately, moved wild, groaned painfully, had his breaths come in gasps and had his temperature risen. Every time that had happened, Halt had rushed to his side, awoken from his restless sleep, to make sure he was alright. Will's situation hadn't worsened. But it hadn't gotten any better, either.   
>>>\----------> <\----------<<<  
It felt as if he was coming out of a deep, yet restless sleep. He woke slowly consciousness gradually filtering through him as he became aware that he lay in his sleeping bag. His eyes opened and he frowned at the unfamiliar surroundings. He was at a small clearing, where the bright sunlight of winter struck through a few trees of which the snow was melting, wider at its base than at the top. His head was pounding and his whole body hurt. But he was alive.  
"Halt...?" he croaked, coughing as soon as the words left his mouth. Halt came rushed to his side, a worried yet happy expression on his face, glad that he had finally awoken. He took his hand and felt his forehead, which wasn't as warm as it had been.   
"How are you feeling?"  
"Horrible," Will answered, not joking or kidding as he normally would have. "Halt... I was going to treat my wounds but they hurt too much so I thought I'd use the warmweed salve. I... The smell... It was so cold and everything hurt so much, the smell was overwhelming and Halt, I... I wanted to take it."  
Halt felt an ice-cold hand clutch his heart as Will told him what he had expected had happened. "Did you?" he asked worriedly. If he had, the consequences would be terrible...  
Will shook his head, tears welling up. "No, but I wanted to. The smell brought everything back, everything." Without further explanation, Halt knew he was talking about Skandia. No longer did he see the young man in front of him, who'd conquered so much, but a small boy, traumatized.   
He squeezed his hand, telling him that it was okay to cry. Which he did.   
It was the most hysterical crying, the screaming sobs only interrupted by his need to draw breath. Will cried as if his brain was being shredded from the inside. Emotional pain flowed out of his every pore. From his mouth came a cry from so raw that even Halt's eyes were suddenly wet with tears.  
Will was beyond all reason, beyond all natural methods of calming. Yet slowly he did. Calm down.  
The crying got less and less intense until it was only sobbing.  
Will sobbed unceasingly, and Halt held him in silence, rocking him slowly. A tiny lapse let the younger Ranger pull away, blinking lashes heavy with tears, before he collapsed again, his howls of misery worsening.  
The pain must have come in waves, minutes of sobbing broken apart by short pauses for recovering breaths, before hurling him back into the outstretched arms of his pain.  
Except for the trauma, Will was alright. Alive.   
"So...What now?" Will asked, when his tears had dried up and the cold had disappeared. The pain was left, but it was physical, bearable pain.   
Halt smiled, a real, satisfied smile.  
"We are going home."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WHY IS THIS SO HARD TO WRITE, LIKE, WHY?!?!?! Anyway. They're alright. Didn't truly believe I was going to kill Will, did you? I do hope you'll forgive me for not going too deep into the details, but it's so hard and I really wanted it to be finished... oh well.  
> Once again, please leave a vote and a comment to make my day :)  
> One more chapter is on its way...!!!  
> ~Rose


	10. Happily ever after

X: Happily Ever After  
They were almost home.   
It was strange, Will thought, how strange it felt to see the red, high walls of Castle Redmont once again. He had been so close to never seeing them again, that if felt weird returning home.   
After his return to the world of the conscious, Halt had convinced him to stay at the clearing for another few days.   
"You're weak," he had said, ignoring Will's weak protests, "We're staying here until you're capable of riding the distance." And, as always, there had been no way to convince Halt to do otherwise.   
So that was why they were riding uphill today, in the beautiful, sunny weather that had replaced the days of snow. Returning home felt like a tortoise retracting into her shell. The troubles of the world evaporated as they rode over the stone drawbridge, showing their silver oakleafs to the soldiers who'd recognized them anyway.   
Home.   
Safety.   
Somewhere inside there, Will knew, Alyss was waiting for him. He couldn't wait to see her again, to smell the sweet scent she always wore and to close her in his arms.   
"I can't wait for a good cup of coffee," Halt said, ripping him from his thoughts.   
"Me too," Will replied, but Halt shook his head in disagreement, pokerfaced. "You can't have coffee, you're still too weak," he said, deadpan. Will raised an eyebrow.   
"I can, and I will," he replied. Halt shrugged. Truth be told, he didn't know if Will was too weak to drink coffee, but even if he was, he didn't care. They both deserved a hot cup of nice, warm coffee, after all they had been through the past days.   
They entered the courtyard, the hooves of their horses clattering on the cobblestones on the ground. Halt dismounted first, so he could help Will getting off Tug safely. Because of the wound in his side, Will couldn't stretch very well and because of the wound in his leg, he couldn't place too much weight on it.   
"When we've reported to the Baron, we're first visiting the infirmary," Halt told Will as they gave the leather reigns of their horses to two familiar stable hands.   
"You look like a wreck and I don't want Alyss to have a heart attack when she sees you again. Besides, I'm sure they'll have something for your headache."  
Will opened his mouth to protest, but Halt didn't let him.   
"For the sake of my own sanity, please," he said grimly as they walked towards to door of the donjon, "You've already done more than enough stupid things past week that could have given me a heart attack." Will grinned sheepishly. He knew his mentor was right and he only wanted to protest because he liked it.   
They were about to go through the door of the donjon - the one guards held open for them, after having made sure they were who they said they were - when another servant came running towards them.  
"Ranger Halt, Ranger Will!" he yelled, before coming to a halt in front of them. He was slightly panting, Halt noticed amusedly, but whether that was because of his running skills or just the fact that he'd ran very hard, he did not know.   
"You have to come with me first, Rangers," the servant said, apologetically, "The Baron knows of it and has given his approval."  
The two Rangers did as they were asked, Halt with a raised eyebrow, Will limping. Both of them couldn't think of something that was more important than them reporting to Baron Arald.   
They became even more confused when they were let straight to Halt and Pauline's apartment on the third floor. The servant knocked on the door, before opening it and politely holding it open for them.   
Will went in first, closely followed by Halt. The only other persons in the room were Lady Pauline and Alyss.   
There wives both wore their elegant gowns, and sat at the table at the other end of the main room. But something about their position wasn't right, they noticed. Alyss seemed to be holding her head in her hands, and Pauline had an arm placed around her shoulders.   
"Alyss?" he called, and she looked up, startled. Only then did she recognize him and she flew into his arms, tears streaming down her pretty face.   
She could feel his torso and the heart that beat within. His hands were folded around her back, drawing her in closer.   
She could feel her body shake, crying to release the tension. He pulled his head back and wiped the tears with a calloused finger.   
"It's alright," he eased, even though he had no idea what was or was not alright. Halt had noticed the tears, too, and he walked past the couple towards the other side of the room.  
"What's wrong?" he asked quietly. Pauline seemed to be struggling to find the right words to explain it, he noticed, which made him even more curious and worried as for what had happened.  
"She had't been feeling well at all past days, so I sent her to vist the midwife; you know, just to be sure," she answered, her eyes never leaving the couple on the other side of the room.   
"Yeah?" Halt asked, slowly losing his patience. He had no knowledge nor experience, so he had, for once, no idea. Pauline looked at him, and he saw the pain and pity in her eyes.   
"She miscarried," she whispered. Halt laid an arm around her and together they kept watching their apprentices. Alyss seemed to have told Will about what had happened, about what was lost, and they saw how he hugged her sweetly, whispering some words they couldn't hear.   
"At least they still have each other," Halt said. Pauline glanced at him, hearing there was a double meaning behind those words. But right now wasn't the time.   
"At least they have each other," she agreed.  
Meanwhile, Alyss had slowly come to calm down. Sobs still forced their way out of her throat, tears still shined on her cheeks and in her grey eyes.   
To be in Will's arms was love, safety, and passion too. His words were precious, his sweet smile a remedy, the feel of his body that healed.   
"It's alright," he kept whispering, "Alright... alright..." She clamped on to him, not wanting to lose another person in her life, sobbing, crying, for all that she had lost.  
"It's alright, I'm right here." Never had words ever meant so much. Never had they ever done what they did now.   
In Will's embrace the world stopped still on its axis. There was no time, no wind, no rain. Everything was at peace. Pure. Unselfish. Undemanding. Free.   
When he kissed her it was sweet, gentle, and it tasted of tears. It made the world fall away. Slowly and softly, comforting in ways words could never be. His hand rested below her ear, his thumb caressing her cheek as their breaths mingled. She ran her fingers down his spine, pulling him closer until there was little space left between them and she could feel the beating of his heart against her chest.   
Never had a kiss contained so much. Never had a kiss contained so much love, and passion as this one had. It was a kiss that made it all well.  
They realized their life wasn't a fairy tale. They'd have to go through hard and confusing times. Life wouldn't always go as easily as they wanted, and they'd have to remember that they'd chosen this life themselves. They had known it when they had gotten a relationship, they had known it when they had spoken their vows.   
They knew their life wouldn't be a fairytale, at least, not always.   
They wouldn't get a 'happily ever after', but much more than that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for making you think everything was alright before ruining it again. But it's just what I'm good at ;)  
> This way this story fits in those sixteen years between The Lost Stories and The Royal Ranger, which is exactly where I wanted it to fit...:)  
> Anyway, this was the last chapter (and it did end kinda good, didn't it?)!  
> ~Rose


End file.
